


Things Learned

by nomdeplume13



Series: Home in Motion Universe [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-07
Updated: 2014-02-07
Packaged: 2018-01-11 11:56:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1172786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomdeplume13/pseuds/nomdeplume13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of the Home in Motion universe, but not really necessary to read to understand. Cas makes a number of observations about his lover as he gets to know and understand him better. Destiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things Learned

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the Home in Motion 'verse. It has no discernible place in the timeline, since it's Cas's observations since he found himself in a relationship with Dean and with a child of their own. For those who haven't read Home in Motion, you just need to know Dean has an adopted son and Sam has a girlfriend named Emma, who is an OFC.

" _Any fool can know. The point is to understand."_

_Albert Einstein_

There were few things that managed to surprised Castiel about Dean, but as their relationship grew intimate and the angel learned more about the hunter, he found some small, surprising revelations.

**1\. Dean got self conscious about his body on occasion.**

In the warm summer months, it was not uncommon for the men of the house-even Johnny-to walk around shirtless, or in just a diaper in the baby's case. Castiel had done so on occasion merely to blend in, but he had never needed to forego the clothing item for the sake of the heat; he could regulate internally. Which Dean much appreciated when he would lay cool hands on the back of a sun-baked neck or overly flushed cheeks.

It was on one of those exceptionally hot days when the two small window air conditioning units and fans were doing little to keep Bobby's house cool and the whole family was outside because, at least, outside there was a breeze.

Dean was sitting at the small table on the front porch, repairing a carburator as Johnny splashed around in a tiny pool filled with inflatable toys, wearing only a waterproof diaper. The hunter was keeping a watch on his son as he worked, though Castiel was perched on the porch steps just in case the baby fell into the water and accidentally inhaled. (It had happened a week ago, but Johnny had expelled the liquid before even Castiel could get to him. The scare, however, had him on edge, and the clean-up of spit and snot had not been pretty.)

As they were watching, Sam walked by with an empty crate. "I think this will work, Bobby," he said as he headed toward the garage where Bobby was gathering a few items for a hunter whose supplies had been destroyed after a wendigo got a hold of his truck. The wendigo had died, but the truck bed and the aluminum tool box in it had not been so lucky.

When Sam walked by, Dean noticeably tightened his stomach muscles and glanced first at Castiel for a fraction of a second and just as quickly at his brother. The reaction was surprising to the angel, who was accustomed to the hunter's confidence in his appearance. He was even more surprised that for a split second, Dean appeared to question if Castiel was somehow taking note of Sam's shirtless frame and appreciate it more than the one he practically worshiped at night.

It was understandable that Sam would have a far more defined build than his brother. He ate healthier and spent much more time on traditional workouts than Dean. This did not even take into account that Sam was also four years younger. Castiel had simply not expected Dean to be troubled by it, nor expect that somehow the angel might mind the difference and prefer the more svelte sibling. Sam was family, a brother. Even if he was not incredibly attracted to Dean, Castiel could not look at the other hunter that way.

Castiel stood and swiped his hands over his pants to clear them of dirt and splinters from the stairs. He walked over to Dean and waited for the hunter to tilt his head back to look at him. He placed a lingering kiss on the man's lips before leaning close to his ear and saying, "This heat is driving me mad."

"Why's that? Thought you didn't feel it, or something."

"Because you're shirtless all the time and it would be very inappropriate for me to drag you to the bedroom every time I consider it."

Dean raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Think about it a lot, do you?"

"You have no idea." He kissed him again, harder, more demonstrative of the fact that, while the words were inspired by Dean's apparent insecurities, they were nonetheless true. Dean really had absolutely nothing to worry about.

**2\. Dean loved cats, even if he was horribly allergic.**

It was a cruel joke, perhaps, and one that Castiel could not fix, that Dean was so allergic to cats. Castiel has watched him slip a hungry-looking stray the entire patty of a burger and look at the animal like he would take it home if he could. He has seen him swear at the television, the ASPCA, and someone called Sarah McLachlan every time there were commercials with a very sad-sounding woman singing and injured animals. The swearing always started at the sight of a kitten or a cat, though he looked no more pleased by the mistreatment of the dogs.

It was after one of these commercials that Castiel finally asked why he had such a preference for felines.

"They were always around. And a little more lovable than the rodents or the roaches at some of the motels we ended up in. When I was a kid, if I saw a cat hanging around the dumpster at the hotel, I might slip it some leftovers, when we had any, and sometimes it'd rub against me or let me pet it. I was always smart about which ones to touch and which ones to leave alone." He added as an afterthought. "They weren't big or scary, even when I was really small." Castiel had seen dogs the size of small horses, and he wouldn't be surprised if they might intimidate a young child.

Johnny snuggled into Dean's chest, a signal he wasn't long for the waking world.

"I didn't know for sure I was allergic until I tried to take one in back when I was about nine. I ended up in the emergency room because I was having trouble breathing and Dad didn't know about the cat to figure out it was a reaction. At least, not until the doctors looked at me and told him it was an allergy. They asked me if I'd been around any animals, while Dad was in the room shaking his head, sure I hadn't been. I had to 'fess up, and Dad was seriously ... angry." Castiel assumed he was prepared to say pissed, but had opted not to because of Johnny's presence.

"I am surprised you did not have the same fondness for dogs."

Dean closed off for a moment at that, and while the angel thought there was probably a story there, he knew better than to push. "I only had the cat for, like a week, but I liked his independence. He needed me for some things, but he was pretty happy to go ahead and do his own thing. His every waking hour didn't rely on me."

Though Dean liked to be needed, at nine, already raising Sam, he couldn't afford to have a pet that needed him as much as his brother.

**3\. Even before his experience with the hellhounds, Dean had been turned off of dogs.**

Ever since their conversation about cats, Castiel had slowly pieced together Dean's dislike for dogs. It wasn't necessarily a single incident but several that compounded into a general dislike. The angel had mentally been compiling a list of these incidents.

a. It began with a story that was somewhat humorous, though understandably traumatizing. Apparently, sometime when Dean was between the ages of three and four, the Winchesters had had a neighbor with a German Shepherd that was used for breeding. At the time, Dean had possessed no fear of the friendly animal and often played with it while his mother and the owner would talk about the local news and gossip.

That day, the play had gotten the dog excited and poor young Dean had found the animal trying to mount him, holding him down and nipping at his shoulder when the boy tried to move. Mary had been quick to separate them, as had the owner, and while the incident probably lasted no more than a matter of seconds, it had left an impression. Castiel assumed it was part of the reason that Dean had no tolerance for even the smell of dogs.

b. A stray dog twice Sam's size when he was five had snarled and snapped at him. Dean had gotten between them, but he still swore the animal looked as though it might eat them both.

c. One of John's hunter friends had kept dogs to help on the hunt. They were trained to be vicious, and some had eaten enough monster blood that Dean had been left wondering if they hadn't become monsters themselves. They would snap and growl as they passed, and at fifteen, Dean would rather have encountered a werewolf than one of those dogs if it ever got loose.

d. Dean had once answered with only one word, "Kujo," as though that explained everything. When Castiel had asked what that reference meant, it was one of the few times the hunter didn't elaborate.

e. After the hellhounds and realizing that Sam had happily adopted a dog after he ran away without a word to Dean while the older brother had been berated by his father to the point his already fragile self-worth began to shatter and got a beating from John that had gone beyond the man's normal discipline... That had been salt in a very old wound.

To date, Dean could name only one dog he ever liked, Bobby's old dog Rumsfeld, who was killed by Meg years before Castiel met the hunters. The fact the one dog he'd had any attachment to had died, probably made this item f on the list.

**4\. Dean had camped out in a McDonald's near child protective services for hours trying to decide if he should report his father.**

They had been short on food and money, and the last fight between Sam and John had gotten especially bad. Dean knew enough about their upbringing to know it wasn't normal, and that they could probably do better in a lot of ways, most of the ways Sam had obviously wanted. Dean had ditched school and sat in the fast food restaurant ordering the cheapest things on the menu every time someone started to look at him strangely, all the while weighing his options.

What changed his mind was not his father's wishes, not even really Sam's—he could tell how much Sam just wanted to be part of a normal family—but his own. He was sixteen, full of attitude, and only good with authority if it was his father. No way someone would want to take him on, and if they did, would they keep Sam and him together? He doubted it. And uncertainty over his ability to stay with his brother had ultimately made Dean's decision for him.

5 **. He'd considered selling his body when money had been tight.**

Castiel was eternally grateful this hadn't happened, and that most of Dean's first experiences with another man—figuratively speaking, given Castiel's unique situation—had been with the angel. He could only imagine how such an experience could have soured Dean's look forever had he taken the man up on his offer when he had suggested they go back to the truck stop bathrooms.

"I think he could see the hungry look in my eyes, like I hadn't had a hell of a lot to eat in a couple days."

"All of it went to Sam," Cas said quietly as he watched Dean stare out the bedroom window, the moon illuminating his frame.

"I took what was left," Dean said, as though it made it somehow better that at fifteen he'd known the cramp of real hunger pains. It was hardly a surprise he could be such a glutton when food was available even now.

"He was offering a lot, doubled it when I made it obvious I'd never..." His thoughts seemed to drift off for a moment, and he looked very awkward, despite what he and Castiel had done together. Dean chose not to finish that particular train of thought and switch to another. "It was tempting. Because it would have covered me and Sammy for a good week, maybe more, eating more than Lucky Charms and Spaghettios." But Dean opted, instead, to use his fake ID and hustle pool, rather than let his sexual experiences be colored by an unknown trucker.

**6\. The money he would have once spent on hard liquor now went into a college fund for Johnny.**

Dean stopped drinking heavily because he couldn't afford to be drunk with Johnny around and he refused to drive with his son in the car unless he was 100% sober. He had lost most of his need for that amount of alcohol, it seemed, since Johnny's arrival, and when the need surfaced, he now seemed to have an easier time resisting it, though he did have the occasional beer or single glass of whiskey. Every week, unless the money was needed for something around the house, he put some amount, usually about the same each week, into the bank. He thought it went unnoticed by Castiel, but when he realized it had not, Dean admitted he wanted the best for their son.

"Of course, he's only allowed to go within an hour's drive of here," Dean clarified. Separation anxiety was not going to be easy, but they had time to work on it.

**7\. Dean hadn't attended more than a few months of school in total until Sam was in preschool.**

Castiel got inklings of this when Sam would mention a particular project or memory from elementary school, then asked Dean about his own experiences. It didn't take long before it became obvious to the angel that Dean was either lying about this or that event or the memory started at second grade. They were already aware that Dean had been held back a year because of his mother's death and their inconstant home; he had never hidden that. He also liked to make light of the fact he hadn't graduated, either. Castiel was well aware of Dean's GED and give 'em hell attitude. For Dean, it was a mark of pride that he did so well sans high school diploma.

But John didn't want his sons in different locations during the first years after the fire, and they were moving around often enough that he didn't want a lot of questions. Pastor Jim had filled in the gaps in Dean's education where he could, but Dean hadn't gotten to know what a real school was like until he was seven, and he hadn't had a clue how to deal with other kids.

"I think I was in two fights that first day. I didn't understand that by bringing in a toy, I had to let my classmates play with it, too. I didn't have all that much of my own, the Hot Wheels car I'd brought in, some action figures, a bucket of army men, and some legos—couple of those are still in Baby's heaters."

"Is that what that sound is?" Castiel asked as he ran a hand through Dean's hair as the hunter rested his head on his lap. "I have heard the rattling before."

"Yep. Sam buried one of the army men in the ashtray, too. And I'm sure there'll be something of Johnny's that winds up lodged in her, too."

Castiel scratched lightly at Dean's scalp. "You were saying about school."

"Yeah. I didn't know how to deal with kids close to my own age. I kept trying to tell them what to do, because they were younger than me, some of 'em by nearly two years. They thought I was bossy and cocky, and I obviously had no idea what the hell I was doing with the school stuff, like art and music and the parachute thing in gym class—though I figured that one out quick because it was almost as fun as the little wheelie things we got to use once a month or so."

"Wheelie things?"

"Sort of like what I use to slide under a car, but square and the wheels would take you in any direction. Our one gym teacher, he was a special kind of sadist, used to use those along with a dodge-ball sort of game. You had rubber balls bouncing everywhere and a couple kids skidding around on these scooters to get to the kids who weren't on them. Called it 'Doctor, Doctor' or something."

"You always took the scooter, I assume," Castiel said as his blunt nails scratched at Dean's scalp.

"Darned right. One plus of being bigger and older than the rest of the kids in my class." He smirked up at the angel. "If you intimidated the runts enough, you could get just about anything you wanted."

Castiel had to wonder how often his partner had turned bully to avoid being bullied, himself. "You didn't like school?"

"Math was OK. If I could focus on the numbers one by one, I usually did all right." It was as close of an admission Dean had yet to make to Castiel about his dyslexia, though the angel was aware of it by now. "Science, depended on what I had to study in that school for that grade. Art was definitely not my subject, but I kind of liked music, even some of the classical stuff." He pointed a finger up at Cas. "But don't get any ideas about playing a lot of that. I said I liked  _some_  of it."

Dean smiled, a happy memory finally cutting through the melancholy. "I kicked ass in gym. Not just on the scooters. I could climb whatever they handed me, a rope, a ladder, a net. I could do pull ups, push ups, sit ups, and run laps like nobody's business. I was fast in a race and a decent shot in basketball. I could wrestle, but I got a little too rough for gym class. I could box, walk a balance beam, tumble like nobody's business, and even square dance-I still don't know why they considered that gym class, but it was Texas and we were a bunch of stupid twelve-year-olds. I was great in dodge ball, and I refused to take out the fat kids, because that was mean, and there was just something about watching the fast little shits who tried to use the bigger, slower kids like shields, get out first that just made me happy."

"Always fighting for the underdog," Castiel noted as he purposely mussed Dean's hair.

"Someone's gotta."

**8\. There was one reason and one reason only that a person could mark up Dean's Baby.**

Castiel was unaccustomed to seeing the door panels off the Impala, but that was what he'd found when Dean had texted him and told him to come outside. He needed him to take care of something. He found his partner leaning against the side of the car with a knife in hand, and small shavings at the driver's door. "Here," Dean said, holding out a knife to the angel. "This is a long time coming."

"What do you want me to do with this?" Castiel asked.

"Take a look at the passenger door. You see that?" The angel looked through the open window of the driver's side door and saw in crude carvings the initials "S.W." and "D.W." carved beneath the inside panel of the door.

"You want me to carve into the door?"

"Not that one. That was Sam and me when we were kids. I kind of want to keep it the same, but..." He opened the driver's door and revealed a new, more expertly carved "D.W. +" on the door. "Just don't do it too big. I'm thinking about getting Bobby and Sam, maybe Emma, and definitely Johnny one day to add to it. Sort of the family door." Castiel looked down at the scratched door panel, shocked first that Dean would mark his Baby up himself, and even more surprised that he would allow Castiel the opportunity to do the same. "'Cept, they don't get the little plus thing. Emma might with Sam, I guess," he mumbled, as he was prone to do when slightly embarrassed by an emotional display.

The angel again looked at the door and then at Dean, and the significance of that little mathematical symbol was not lost on him. He grabbed his partner by the back of the head and mashed their lips together so hard he feared he might have bruised the full lips moving against his own. The knife stayed in his other hand, even as he felt Dean grabbing at his neck and hair and his tongue moving against Castiel's own.

But once they finished, the angel was at a loss as to what he should put in the car. He was going by Castiel Singer, so C.S. might be appropriate, but it wasn't actually his name. "Castiel" was far longer than Dean's two letters, but just a "C" hardly seemed enough. In the end, he chose to leave the most important name behind in his lover's former and still-sometimes home.

"D.W. + CAS"


End file.
